


Soul Surrender

by elementalv



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), due South
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-05
Updated: 2010-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser’s not in Canada any longer.</p><p><strong>Note:</strong> This started as a series of related ficlets I posted on LJ over the course of a year and a half. I can’t recall the exact impetus to write this pairing, but I do remember thinking (and possibly saying, but I don’t recall) that sure, I could write Fraser/Leoben, but it wouldn’t be happy. And, so you know, I was right. I don’t believe the level of physical and emotional violence ever really exceeds that shown in BSG, but I warn for it, because it far exceeds anything we saw in the due South canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Surrender

### Knife

Fraser sat at the dining table and stared at the food in front of him. He didn’t look up when Leoben sat down.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Leoben speared a small carrot with his fork and ate it slowly, savoring the taste of planet-grown food. “Is what I’m asking of you so terrible?”

Fraser didn’t answer and instead, he asked a question of his own. “How long will you leave my knife like this?”

Leoben cocked his head. “How long would you prefer?”

“I would prefer it come out immediately,” Fraser said. A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

“All you had to do was ask.” Leoben sliced off a small piece of meat and chewed it carefully before putting his knife and fork down. He stood and walked around the table, stopping to Fraser’s right before bending down to whisper, “All you ever have to do is ask me for something, Benton, and I’ll give it to you.”

Fraser continued to stare at his food, as if his right hand weren’t pinned to the table by a fifteen-centimeter blade. Leoben kissed Fraser’s temple gently. “This may hurt a little, coming out.”

### Naked

Fraser always wakes up naked and alone, but for the centurion standing guard over his alcove. He assumes this is part of Leoben’s efforts to break him, though it might just be a general expression of contempt for humankind. Cylons, Fraser has found, are always eager to show him how little they care about his species. However, he thinks they’re anxious for humanity’s attention, much the way a rebellious teenager will constantly misbehave in an effort to make sure her parents are still watching.

Still, it’s tiresome being kept naked, and it’s beginning to wear on him in ways small and large, just as the dinners with Leoben are becoming more difficult. Early on, Fraser once made an effort to fight back, but all that garnered him was a knife driven through his hand. He tries to draw his right hand into a fist as he thinks back to that night, then stops, giving it up as a lost cause. Leoben’s aim had been true, slicing through at least one tendon, possibly two, and it’s unlikely that Fraser will ever regain the full use of his hand.

Not that it matters.

As far as Fraser knows, the base ship he’s on is far from Earth and on its way to another planet — Caprica, Leoben told him — and he’ll never see his home again. Rather, he won’t see Earth again as long as he continues to deny Leoben what he wants. And Fraser will deny Leoben what he’s desperate for as long as he draws breath. Once Fraser’s dead, he will win this particular battle.

Until then, however, Fraser will not pretend a love he does not feel for Leoben, will not offer the kiss Leoben so very much wants Fraser to volunteer, will never again mistake Leoben for Ray Kowalski.

### Roles

“Have you located Starbuck yet?” Brother Cavil doesn’t look at Leoben when he asks the question. Instead, he remains with the data stream, so that he can track Leoben’s progress with the colonist from Earth.

“I always know where she is.” Leoben reaches down so that he, too, can see his brother’s plans unfold.

“Tell me something,” Cavil says.

“What?”

“Don’t you find it offensive that your brother proposes to lie down with a man?”

“We are all God’s children,” Leoben says, confident of his brother’s vision. “Benton has his own role to play in this, just as we do.”

### Home

Fraser screams.

_He opened his eyes and found himself back in the Territories, with a crisp, deep blue sky overhead and his father’s cabin less than twenty meters away. Ben inhaled deeply, taking in the strong smell of pine and the more subtle smell of snow._

_Home. He was finally home._

D’Anna makes a minor adjustment then asks again, “What did you do to Leoben?”

_“Benton.”_

_He turned quickly and nearly fell to his knees in relief. “Dad.”_

_“My God, son. What have they done to you?” Bob put his arm around Ben and turned him toward the cabin._

Fraser’s eyes are closed, and he mumbles something unintelligible.

_By the time Bob opened the door to the cabin, Ben was crying openly and could barely hold himself up. Bob said nothing about it. Instead, he called out, “Caroline? Come quick.”_

_She emerged from the back room and hurried to help ease Ben into one of the room’s two armchairs. Once he was seated, Caroline knelt in front of her son._

_“Ben? Sweetheart? Look at me.” Though her voice was brusque, Caroline’s hand on Ben’s cheek was gentle and soothing. When Ben opened his eyes and looked at her, she asked, “Are you ready?”_

D’Anna touches the control.

_“Ready?” He was confused. Too many senseless questions had been directed at him, and he could no longer figure out what anyone wanted of him._

_“Ready to join your father and me,” Caroline answered gently. “You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”_

_“I —”_

Fraser screams.

_Bob was wiping down Ben’s forehead with a cool cloth when Ben opened his eyes again. Caroline held a cup of hot tea before him and said once more, “You don’t have to go back. You can stay. All you need to do is say so. Please, Ben. Please say you’ll stay here.”_

Leoben walks into the alcove and pushes D’Anna into a wall. “We told you. We told you this is a matter for my brothers and me.”

“He knows something,” she says, wiping blood from her mouth. “He did something to Leoben, and I need to know what.”

“That isn’t for you to determine,” Leoben says, his face hard and implacable. “You’re to stand judgment for your actions today.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve ignored the will of the group,” Leoben tells her. “But I can promise you this will be the last time.”

_Ben tried to get the words out, tried to say he wouldn’t go back to the Cylons, but his parents, the cabin — everything faded away too quickly. He wept at the loss._

Fraser wakes up naked, but not alone. Stretched behind him is a lanky body that feels as familiar as his own. For a brief moment, he thinks the last several months have been nothing but a nightmare. He turns his head and —

The form is familiar, yes, but the right arm is clean and unmarked.

He’s not home after all.

### Comfort

The only time Fraser seriously contemplated suicide was after he realized torture wasn’t the worst the Cylons could offer him; kindness was.

As always, it started with Leoben, but it wasn’t the same Leoben. It couldn’t be. The Leoben that Fraser knew, the one who’d put a knife through Fraser’s hand, was currently locked in his own mind. It was a small victory for Fraser, but a victory nonetheless.

“We’d like to learn what you and Leoben talked about, but we know you’re unlikely to give up an advantage,” Leoben said as he set towels and a jar on the floor next to Fraser’s sleeping pallet. He beckoned to Fraser, who stood in the far corner, and said, “Lie down on your stomach, please.”

“Why?” Fraser’s inclination was to run and hide, even though nothing Leoben had done so far that day was overtly threatening.

“You’re still suffering from what D’Anna did. I can help.”

“She left no wounds.” Fraser shifted slightly as he continued to fight the urge to run.

“The pain device doesn’t,” Leoben agreed. “But for several hours your muscles contracted over and over again. They’re tired and sore.”

Leoben was right, and Fraser longed for a soak in a hot bath. “Isn’t that the point of torture?”

“It is. And if we’d wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t be here now, offering to make it better.” Leoben knelt down and sat on his heels. “She overstepped her bounds, Benton. You weren’t meant to be punished.”

Fraser lifted a foot then put it down again, not moving forward. “A long, hot bath would work as well.”

“Not until after the massage,” Leoben said. He didn’t speak forcefully. Leobens rarely did.

They stared at one another for a long time while Fraser argued with himself. His initial impulse was to turn down Leoben’s offer, and he would have if not for another thought, one that said accepting relief for wrongly inflicted pain was important to maintaining his mental health. Pain could wear a man down, make him susceptible to suggestion. He tried to counter that argument with a reminder that pleasure was even more dangerous to his willpower, but a sudden back spasm put an end to all internal discussion.

“All right,” Fraser said. He walked gingerly toward Leoben and accepted his help in lying down.

Leoben didn’t speak while he worked, and Fraser was grudgingly thankful for that. With silence, Fraser could pretend he was home and that Ray was working on him after a long patrol. He recalled exactly the smell of wood smoke from the fireplace and the feel of his mother’s quilt beneath him. Such times with Ray soothed and —

“Talk,” Fraser said. “Talk to me.”

“You’ll relax more if I don’t,” Leoben answered before finishing his work on Fraser’s left shoulder.

“I know.”

“Ah.” Leoben’s hands moved down, traced the scar where Ray’s bullet had entered so many years earlier then moved lower still to loosen the muscles in Fraser’s lower back. Fraser expected him to ignore his request, so he was surprised when Leoben asked, “Have you ever wondered why I look so much like your partner?”

He had, in fact, wondered that very exact thing. For the first month of his captivity, Fraser had done nothing but obsess over the possibility that Ray himself was a Cylon, sent as a scout to ferret out Earth’s defenses. Eventually, however, he discarded the notion. Though the Leobens didn’t act in exactly the same manner, they were similar enough to one another and different enough from Ray that Fraser’s concern was eased.

“It’s coincidence,” he answered. “Nothing more.”

“So you discount God’s will entirely?”

Fraser let out a short bark of laughter. “God’s will?”

“Think about it, Benton,” Leoben whispered into Fraser’s ear. “God sent Ray Kowalski to you in order to prepare you for me.”

Flushed and angry, Fraser tried to sit up, but Leoben wouldn’t allow it. Fraser fought back with words. “Don’t you mean the other Leoben?”

“When my brother’s steps faltered, I took up his burdens.”

Leoben dropped a light kiss on Fraser’s temple, and Fraser groaned, seeing at last the trap before him. He’d been too long without touch and affection, too long huddled in on himself. With just a few minutes’ work, Leoben had found his way through Fraser’s defenses, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to live with himself if he gave in at this late date.

“You’re not a burden, though,” Leoben continued quietly, seemingly unaware of Fraser’s reaction. “You’re a good man, Benton Fraser. Perhaps if the Colonies had had more men like you, we wouldn’t have felt the need to prune humanity so drastically.”

Fraser grasped Leoben’s statement with the desperation of a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

“Billions died,” Fraser said, shoring up his defenses against the feel of skin against skin. He struggled again, but Leoben simply draped himself on top of Fraser in response. “You committed genocide, and you would have done so whether there had been more like me or not.”

“The wheel turns, and the same conflicts play out again and again.” Leoben scraped his fingers through Fraser’s hair. “But you, too, play a role in this. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you and I together in love, working to fulfill God’s plan.”

“How do you know you didn’t see me with Ray?”

“There’s no tattoo.”

### Disease

“How’s our ‘passenger’ doing?”

“He’s holding his own right now, but that could change at any time.”

“Have you determined how a simple case of Saggitan flu came so close to killing him?”

“Possibly. I’d rather not say just yet.”

“Indulge me.”

“All right. As far as I can tell, he has no antibodies for even our most common viral strains.”

“He has no antibodies at all?”

“He has antibodies, Admiral. It’s just that they’re for diseases I’ve never seen.”

“How is that possible? You’ve said all along our medical library is complete.”

“It is complete — for the twelve colonies.”

### Patient

**MEDICAL FILE**

**Patient:** Unnamed male

**Age:** 40 - 45 years

**Appearance:** Dark hair, blue eyes, fair skin

**History:** Patient was found alone aboard a Cylon base ship. Physical examination showed numerous scars, the most notable on his back. Radiologic examination revealed a bullet lodged proximal to the spine, and surgical intervention was deemed necessary. As the patient was catatonic, Admiral Adama consented to the procedure.

**Current Findings:** Patient is recovering well from the flu, though there is evidence of damage to his lungs. Although he hasn’t spoken, patient is far more responsive than when first brought aboard.

**Treatment:** Psychiatric consultation ordered.

### Awakening

I’m not quite sure how I came back to myself. I believe it happened in increments, sliding closer one day, a little bit away another day, then closer still the next. The noise of a busy ward eventually became my guideline, and while I would have preferred to leave life to the living, my sense of responsibility, long dormant, asserted itself. My arguments were, I thought, valid. I didn’t know these people. They didn’t know me. There was no reason to speak to them, to warn them. They’d gotten along fine without me so far and could do so for the foreseeable future.

That phrase, foreseeable future, was ultimately what tilted me sufficiently toward life that I had to keep going. Back in the Territories, my foreseeable future had included a life with Ray, one that allowed me to go out on patrol and return to a home instead of a cabin. My foreseeable future meant chopping wood in the summer, preserving meat for the winter and taking care of the thousand and one repairs that meant our cabin would be a safe haven once the dark came. My foreseeable future was a hazy dream of domesticity that had once been unimaginable.

And then, with a moment’s inattention to detail, my foreseeable future became an endless night of cold, hard surfaces and a personage who wore Ray’s face and had the soul of a monster.

That’s not true.

Or perhaps it is. The first Leoben was assertive in claiming me as his own and was, I think, a bit mad as well. After he stabbed me in retaliation for my efforts to escape, he told me the others believed he’d gone too far, given that my attempt should have been expected. I was in hearty agreement with the others, though I didn’t say so, not then. I was leery of Leoben’s willing facility with a knife, wary that he might use it to cripple me more seriously, worried that I might be tempted to use it on him once again.

Instead, I retreated mentally and regrouped while I waited for a different opportunity to get off the ship and return home. It was mostly a simple thing to hide in obedience. Leoben insisted that I learn a new language, and so I did. He told me that I had to learn the Cylon history, and so I did. He told me that I had to take a drug in order to prophesy, and so I did.

He told me I had to love him, and I refused.

Repeatedly.

One day, Leoben finally lost patience with me and pressed himself against me in a parody of the physical affection I’d once enjoyed with Ray. He demanded to know why I continued to refuse god’s will when it was so clear to him, to Leoben, what our future entailed. By then, I was more than a little fed up myself, and so I told him. I began by talking to him about the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and from there, I talked about my father and my mother. I spoke of a childhood spent in the cold north with only my grandparents and a very few children my own age as company.

For the next several weeks, I disgorged my memory into Leoben’s willing ears, interspersing my experiences with Inuit stories, so as to illuminate and clarify my decisions as I reached maturity and beyond. When I spoke of my father’s death, Leoben asked why I cared so much, given that my father had essentially abandoned me so many years earlier. It was a reasonable question, and one that led to a lengthy discourse on duty, love and familial obligation. Throughout it all, Leoben sat, entranced. Thinking back on it, I believe it was the first time a Cylon had ever heard a human speak in such detail about his life.

Though the Cylons will never believe me, I honestly don’t know what drove Leoben so deeply into his own mind that the others couldn’t reach him. He’d grown more and more thoughtful as I described my time in Chicago and the gradual thawing of my heart, a process started by Ray Vecchio and completed by Ray Kowalski. By the time I spoke of my new life in the Territories, Leoben was barely responsive. It wasn’t until I spoke of my capture that Leoben shut out the world completely, leaving me to my own devices.

A sudden burst of noise from near my bed recalled me to the present. Whether I liked it or not, I’d made the decision to stop existing and start living again. My first step toward life would, of necessity, be reclaiming my identity.

During a brief pause in the argument, I said, “My name is Benton Fraser.”

### Convergence

It’s not difficult for Brother Cavil to find Leoben. He has, of late, taken to meditating to the babblings of the hybrid, something Cavil can barely tolerate. The words it spits out in an endless stream of inconsequential nattering disturb him, though he doesn’t understand why. The hybrid is as much a Cylon as any of them, so its speech, whether it has meaning or not, should be as comfortable and familiar as the pulse of centurions or the prophesying of the Leobens or the greed of the D’Annas.

_trajectory course followed eye ... followed ... jupiter’s eye watches watches watches ... liaison to ... course correction noted consulate duties ... responsibilities assumed ..._

Cavil suppresses a shudder and says, “We’ve had word.”

“Benton is awake,” Leoben answers. He smiles without opening his eyes. “The hybrid knew. She’s been talking about it for the last two days.”

“The hybrid has no gender.” It’s an old protest and one Cavil knows will be ignored.

“Has she found a teacher?”

This is the main reason Cavil sought out Leoben. “Sharon believes so. She said the rabbi is intrigued and willing to speak with you.”

“Does he understand where he’ll have to go?”

“I don’t like the idea of telling him beforehand,” Cavil says as he paces. He keeps Leoben between him and the hybrid, which continues to spout nonsense.

“We’ve agreed not to repeat our failures with the Colonies.” Leoben stands up and turns to face Cavil, putting his hand on Cavil’s shoulder to stop him from pacing. “Earth is part of God’s plan for us, and we must approach it with care.”

“The Fleet will be on its way as soon as Fraser passes on our message to Adama.”

Leoben smiles. “I doubt it.”

“You don’t honestly believe he can stop them from coming.”

“Benton has the capacity to do so,” Leoben says. “How else could I have been persuaded away from a vision I once believed to be true?”

Impatient, Cavil shakes off Leoben’s hand and starts pacing again. “How do you know your original vision wasn’t true? How do you know the one you’ve convinced us to follow isn’t false?”

“The hybrids agree with me.” Leoben speaks gently, but his tone doesn’t soothe Cavil in the slightest.

“The hybrids are insane.”

“So was I, Brother Cavil,” Leoben reminds him. “I would be still, if Benton hadn’t spoken to me, hadn’t dispelled my confusion and anger.”

Cavil stops pacing, because Leoben is absolutely correct in this. After he’d stabbed the human so unexpectedly, there had been considerable debate over whether or not to put this particular Leoben into permanent storage. After three months in his self-imposed stasis, Leoben emerged a changed Cylon, one whose words held weight with the others, because Leoben had long stared at the brink of madness then turned away, becoming whole and complete in the process.

At least, that's the current interpretation favored by the Cylons. Cavil is inclined to believe that Leoben has exchanged one form of insanity for another, especially with his insistence that Cylons and humans must become a single population if they’re ever to break the wheel and move forward. The notion of unity disgusts Cavil. He believes the universe will be a better place once humanity is finally eradicated, but this is an unpopular opinion these days, and Cavil knows better than to express it out loud.

With nothing else to say on the subject, Cavil returns to an earlier topic and says, “I’ll have Sharon tell the rabbi what to expect.”

Leoben smiles, and the bright joy of it is enough to soften Cavil’s heart for a moment. “Thank you, Brother Cavil.”

When Leoben’s smile fades away, so too does Cavil’s optimism. “You’re sure this is what we need — a holy man?”

“A rabbi is, first and foremost, a teacher,” Leoben says. “After the errors we’ve made, don’t you think we need one?”

*****

Leoben moves quickly through the base ship, for once, not taking the time or trouble to project. His excitement is too great for that, and when he finds Cavil, he catches him up in a wholly gleeful hug.

Cavil is not amused.

“Would you stop that? Anyone might think you’re human.”

“Benton is speaking,” Leoben says, his smile broad and easy.

“We should move our ships into position.” Cavil is tense.

Leoben knows that this aspect of their mission bothers Cavil, not because they’re protecting the humans of Earth from Colonial contamination, but because they’re protecting humans at all. Cavil doesn’t like the idea that humans and Cylons are ultimately destined to merge into a unified population, though he does admit to the sensibility of it. Cylon reproduction is proving to be impossible to move forward without genetic contributions from humanity.

“It would be best.”

“You brother thinks it’s unnecessary,” Cavil says. The challenge is expected. Leoben has seen it taking place a hundred times on a hundred different base ships.

“My brother sees Benton through the eyes of the saved and believes him capable of anything,” Leoben says, unperturbed. “It might have been better to allow Leoben one last meeting with him before leaving him behind.”

“And what would that have accomplished?”

“Perhaps nothing. Or perhaps everything.” The conversation becomes unexpectedly painful for Leoben. He knows it was necessary to give Benton over to the Colonial Fleet, but he misses him, misses the smooth curve of Benton’s back, misses the deep tones of his voice, misses his passion.

“The rabbi will be with Leoben in another day,” Cavil says, unhappy with Leoben’s demands. “Once he’s aboard, we’ll quarantine Earth’s solar system to prevent the Fleet from getting through.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as we have word of how Benton handles the Admiral.”

*****

Fraser sits before Admiral Adama, feeling an utter traitor, both to Earth and to humanity in general. They won’t like what he has to say, and they may well jail him.

He thinks it might be just as well if they do.

### History

**   
_Presidential Library of Laura Roslyn_   
**

**Audio Record:** Interrogation of Benton Fraser, Earth, Tape 1

**Archivist’s Note:** Owing to a pernicious Cylon data virus, the exact date of this session is, unfortunately, unknown. Benton Fraser is believed to have arrived on Galactica some three years after the Refugees identified the Eye of Jupiter referenced in scripture.

As significant as this particular meeting was, it’s unfortunate that so much of the session was lost to the ravages of the virus. Despite this, those dedicated to history will, no doubt, find value in picking up the nuance of emotion evident in both the audio and written transcript.

Scholars may find the harsh tone of the interrogation to be at odds with what they’ve learned about Admiral Adama and President Roslyn during their studies. However, it is worth noting that by their own admission, both Adama and Roslyn very much wanted to disbelieve Fraser’s claim to be from Earth. In this, they were not alone. Those who later went on to form the Thracian sect were convinced Fraser was a new Cylon model, while others of a less religious bent theorized he was a human raised by Cylons.

Listen, then, with an open mind, and hear the heart and mind of our ancestors during a very difficult period of human history.

_Suggested Readings for Further Study:_ Mother and Father: Historical Analysis of the Reign of Laura Roslyn and William Adama, by Philippa Ceres; The Collected Journals of Benton Fraser, edited by Mara Krysoph; Security During the Diaspora, by Alexander Gaita.

Helen Conoy  
Senior Archivist  
Roslyn Presidential Library

**Technical Notes:** Cylon data virus 53.B.2U has damaged portions of this audio record too severely for even minimal restoration. Listeners are advised to read the written transcript at the same time they play the audio file. Numbers in brackets indicate how many seconds were destroyed between audible portions of the file.

ADAMA, WILLIAM: This is Admiral William ...

[123.11]

ADAMA: ... that you’re from Earth?

FRASER, BENTON: Yes, sir.

ADAMA: I find that very difficult to believe.

FRASER: I was told you would, sir.

ADAMA: By whom?

FRASER: Sir?

ADAMA: Who told you I would find your claim difficult to believe?

FRASER: One of the Leobens.

ADAMA: Let the record show that Mr. Fraser referenced Cylon model ...

[436.58]

ROSLYN, LAURA: ... language very well for someone who claims to have learned it within the last two years.

FRASER: The Cylons are adept at motivating one to learn quickly and accurately.

ADAMA: Are you saying they tortured you?

FRASER: Torture is a crude description for the process.

[W. Adama pauses 3.12 seconds before responding]

ADAMA: Let’s get back to your claim to be from Earth. How long ago did the Cylons capture you?

[11.38]

ADAMA: ... disingenuous.

FRASER: Two to two and a half years is the most precise answer I can give you, Admiral.

ADAMA: Six months is a hell of a lot of leeway to give yourself.

FRASER: Cylons measure time one way, your fleet measures it another way, and humans on Earth measure it yet a third way. Confusing matters further, I have no idea how long I spent sleeping, unconscious or in a vision state. It is literally impossible for me to be more certain.

ROSLYN: You experienced visions?

FRASER: Yes, ma’am. The Cylons gave me a drug they claimed would allow me to see the future.

ADAMA: Cottle indicated in one of his reports that you showed signs of addiction to chamalla.

FRASER: I was given the choice of taking it voluntarily in smaller doses or taking it involuntarily in larger, potentially lethal doses.

ROSLYN: It’s impossible to die from an overdose of chamalla.

FRASER: I had only the word of the Cylons to go by.

ROSLYN: What did your visions show you?

[B. Fraser pauses 5.73 seconds before responding]

FRASER: Death.

[L. Roslyn pauses 2.72 seconds before responding]

ROSLYN: Would you like a drink of water, Mr. Fraser?

FRASER: Thank you, kindly.

ADAMA: Audio mute.

ADAMA: Interrogation resumes at 13:12. You’ve said you had visions induced by chamalla. Were they all the same?

FRASER: Generally speaking, yes.

ROSLYN: Did these visions come on their own, or did the Cylons prompt them in some manner?

FRASER: Leoben would speak a sentence, and the vision would begin.

ADAMA: What sentence was that?

FRASER: It was different every time.

ROSLYN: Can you give us an example?

FRASER: No. I don’t recall any of the trigger words he used.

ROSLYN: Tell us about one of your visions.

FRASER: It’s noon on the longest day, and the sun won’t set for another thirty-two days. A raven crosses the sky and banishes the light.

ADAMA: Obscure gibberish.

FRASER: On the contrary, Admiral. The message was quite clear to me.

ADAMA: Explain.

FRASER: My home is above the Arctic Circle. Owing to axial tilt, the sun doesn’t set in summer, and it doesn’t rise in winter. We spend the summer months preparing for winter, and we need every minute of daylight we can get. If the sun were to set so early —

ROSLYN: You would die. Insufficient preparation.

FRASER: Precisely.

ADAMA: I don’t understand.

FRASER: The vision confirmed what I already knew, that Earth is defenseless against the Cylons.

ADAMA: Don’t you think you’re being overly ...

[894.18]

ROSLYN: ... that we can’t go to Earth?

FRASER: That’s correct, Madam President.

ADAMA: What will happen if we ignore your request and go anyway?

FRASER: The Cylons will attack Earth. More than six billion will die.

ROSLYN: How many will die if the Cylons are granted refugee status and use force to convert your people to their religion?

FRASER: At least one hundred million, according to Cylon estimates.

ADAMA: And that number is acceptable to you?

FRASER: It’s less horrific than six billion dead.

ROSLYN: You can’t be certain that’s what will happen. Cylons use truth and lies interchangeably to manipulate others. Those so-called visions could be little more than post-hypnotic suggestion.

FRASER: True. However, I am certain that Earth will not survive an attack by the Cylons.

ROSLYN: Your defense system may surprise you. With our help —

FRASER: I’m sorry. I thought I made myself clear: Earth has no defense against the Cylons.

ADAMA: You’ve said you have nuclear arsenals.

FRASER: None of which have weapons that are capable of launching into space. Additionally, those weapons are controlled by military computer networks.

[B. Fraser pauses 2.44 seconds before continuing]

FRASER: Do you understand now?

ADAMA: Gods.

FRASER: The Cylons have Earth by the throat, Admiral, and ...

[559.13]

ROSLYN: ... in the brig.

FRASER: Understood.

ADAMA: This is Admiral William Adama, ending the first interrogation of ...

[5.77]

### Future

Fraser curls in on himself in an effort to hide.

It does no good. The images, bloody and violent and not nearly symbolic enough for his peace of mind, continue to assail him. As bad as they are, they aren’t the worst. Based on past experience, those are still to come, and he doesn’t know if he’ll survive them. He has yet to become inured to the horror, and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. What he does know is that the phrase, “ripping one’s soul to shreds,” has taken on a new and deeply personal meaning.

He moans quietly, unable to work up sufficient focus to cry. All he can do is lie there and attempt to withstand the visions as best he’s able. In those rare moments when he’s able to think beyond his pain, he believes Leoben gives him too much of the drug in an effort to wear down his resistance. It’s possible that Leoben might just win this battle of wills today, because as soon as Fraser feels his touch, he leans into it, seeking desperately needed comfort, no matter the source.

“Shh,” Leoben says as he gathers Fraser into his embrace. He rubs Fraser’s back and speaks quietly. “They’re bad because you haven’t seen the wisdom of our compromise.”

Fraser sees a child impaled and left as a warning to others. He whimpers and gets as close to Leoben as possible.

“We’ve talked about this, Benton. Shift your perspective. See the future that will be if you help us.” Fraser shakes his head, but Leoben continues speaking. “You’ve changed your mind and will give us what we need to make our appeal to the humans of Earth. Keep that thought in mind. You’re going to help us beguile your people and convince them of our need. Concentrate, Benton. Consider that future.”

Leoben’s voice is insidious, and as much as Fraser tries, he’s unable to shut him out this time. Eventually, his perspective shifts, and he contemplates the future that might be if he agrees to betray his species to the Cylons.

Death.

There’s still death, and he nearly cries out. The only thing that stays his voice is the fact that there isn’t nearly as much death as there was in the earlier visions. Instead, the violence isn’t much worse than what humans do to begin with, though there is still considerably more of it. There aren’t, however, atrocities. Children aren’t killed as an object lesson, and women aren’t gutted to prevent the birth of the hybrids.

He vomits before he can twist away from Leoben. Fraser has seen women who are awake and aware sliced open in earlier visions, but he never understood why until this point. He heaves again, and then Leoben stands, bringing Fraser up with him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Leoben helps Fraser to the shower and cleans him with a tenderness that is at odds with what he knows of Cylons — which isn’t much, Fraser realizes. His mouth and body clean, Fraser is about to confront Leoben with the truth he’s learned, but instead, he starts crying.

If he were a less honest man, he would claim his tears are for humanity. If he were a less honest man, he would pretend they were the result of emotional trauma. If he were a less honest man, he would ignore the truth behind the new vision of the future.

Fraser isn’t less honest, though.

He wraps his arms around Leoben’s waist and drops his chin to Leoben’s shoulder. “You were right. I’ll help.”

### Joyless

_Leoben wrapped himself around Fraser and rocked him as he rode out the vision. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”_

_“Christ!” Fraser stared into the horror that surrounded him. “They’re dead. They’re all dead.”_

_“No. Not yet. This is only a possibility.” Leoben tucked his face in close to Fraser’s. “I’ve seen the fire in my own dreams. I know God weeps at the thought of it.”_

_Sweat ran off Fraser’s face and body, but he was too lost in the vision to notice it. “How could you? How could you do that to them?”_

_“We have no choice, Benton, not right now.”_

_“There’s always —” Fraser stopped speaking when he saw the mangled and burned body of a child. “Make it stop!”_

_“Soon. The vision will end soon,” Leoben crooned. When Fraser began to struggle, Leoben tightened his hold. “Stay with me, Benton. You’ll hurt yourself if you run blindly.”_

_“Why are you doing this to me?”_

_“So you understand.”_

*****

Fraser regrets sitting for this initial meeting with Admiral Adama. He would much prefer to accept the other man’s judgment while standing, but he’s still too weak. Simply walking to this room sapped his energy to the point that he wishes he could lie down and sleep. Instead, he steels himself to focus while Adama skims a report.

“What ship were you on, Mr. Fraser?” Though Adama’s voice is kind, there’s no mistaking that this is an interrogation.

“A Cylon base ship,” he answers.

“Before that.” Adama is patient. “What ship were you on before the Cylons captured you?”

“I wasn’t on a ship.”

Fraser suddenly remembers that he has had this conversation with Adama several times before, though they’ve only just met. It’s just one more piece of evidence that chamalla does, indeed, cause the user to have prophetic experiences. He thinks this fresh vindication should make him feel better about the decisions he’s made; he knows it won’t.

“So you were taken before the Cylons destroyed the Colonies?” Adama’s pose is casual, and Fraser knows it’s a lie. He can see the tension in Adama’s jaw.

“No, sir. I was captured after that.” Though it’s tempting to cut to the chase and tell Adama everything, Fraser remembers what will happen. It’s safer to continue at this slow pace.

“You survived the initial attacks, then. Which world were you on?”

The question is slightly out of place. It’s two or three ahead of where Fraser remembers Adama should be, and worse still, Adama’s question isn’t specific to the Colonies. As much as Fraser wants to deflect, to delay his answer, he avoids doing just that. Fraser believes that giving Adama anything other than the truth at this point will only worsen the situation.

His mouth dry, he answers, “Earth.”

Adama doesn’t seem surprised, which is a relief. It means Fraser still has a chance.

*****

_Leoben, the second Leoben, always bathed him after a vision. Kept him close and held him. Eased him through the distress of finding himself back in the present, because it was always a shock. It was never pleasant to return to his body, no matter how awful the vision. Leoben told Fraser he understood and went through the motions of helping._

_Fraser hated him for that kindness and consideration. The first Leoben was unpredictable and cruel at times, especially after the visions started, and it was simple for Fraser to remember his role as a prisoner. Not so with the second Leoben._

_“Why are you doing this to me?” Fraser longed for the clean pain of a sharp blade. He thought that if nothing else, it would dispel the last vestiges of what he’d seen and allow him to think again._

_“I see your part in God’s plan.” Leoben stroked Fraser’s chest and stomach. “He wants you to fulfill your destiny.”_

_“Is this the same god who ordered genocide?”_

_“Cylons aren’t perfect.” Leoben’s hand dipped lower. “We make mistakes.”_

_“How do you know I’m not one of them?”_

_“You’re not.”_

*****

Adama leans back slightly in his chair and gives Fraser what might pass for a smile under other circumstances. At the moment, it reminds Fraser of little more than an animal baring its teeth at him.

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to know we’re headed for Earth right now.”

Fraser’s gut tightens. “You are mistaken, sir.”

“Oh?”

This is going all wrong. Fraser remembers Adama getting angry with him right now, not sitting there as if they were discussing the weather. For a moment, Fraser is terrified. If this is wrong, what else is wrong? He takes a deep breath and reminds himself of certain facts that are set in stone, with or without chamalla to influence him. Those facts haven’t changed just because Adama isn’t angry.

Fraser takes another deep breath as he composes his response, taking care to avoid words and phrases which set Adama off in the visions. “The Cylons won’t permit the Colonial Fleet to approach Earth.”

“Why not?”

It’s clear now that Adama has already come to certain conclusions of his own. This is both a blessing and a curse, though on the whole, Fraser counts it as a blessing. It means he can stop relying so completely on his vision memories and start responding in the moment. With that particular shackle removed, Fraser relaxes. Whatever happens from this point forward, he no longer bears sole responsibility for the future.

“They believe the humans on Earth are redeemable.”

*****

_”It’s your choice, Benton,” Leoben said. “You always have a choice.”_

_Fraser went back to the beginning of the record and watched again as each of the twelve colonies was laid waste by countless nuclear strikes. He watched as a ticker estimated the number of dead both from the detonation and later from the fallout. He watched the space battle between humans and Cylons and swallowed back bile as the number of dead increased with the destruction of each human ship._

_“My choice is between billions dead or tens of millions.”_

_“Better a hard choice than no choice at all.”_

_Leoben was wrong. It wasn’t a hard choice; it was a bitter choice. _

*****

“And we’re not, is that it?” Adama nods, as if getting confirmation of something he already knew. “What makes your people so special?”

“There are three major monotheistic religions on Earth, all related.”

“You no longer honor Zeus or Athena or any of the others?”

The recitation of names startles Fraser, even though he’s learned the basic dogma of Colonial religion. Leoben was nothing if not thorough in his tutorials.

Fraser says, “The Cylons believe their god is the same as the god of the Earth religions.”

“What do you believe?”

Fraser blinks, startled to hear a familiar question. He shakes off his sudden unease and answers, “I believe that as long as the Cylons are convinced they share a god with the humans of Earth, they won’t destroy my home.”

*****

_“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Leoben helped Fraser to the shower and bathed him with a tenderness that was galling. His mouth and body clean, Fraser was about to confront Leoben with the truth he’d learned in his latest visions, but instead, he started crying quietly._

_Had he been a less honest man, he would have claimed his tears were for humanity. Had he been a less honest man, he would have pretended they were the result of emotional trauma. Had he been a less honest man, he would have ignored the truth behind the new vision of the future._

_Fraser wasn’t less honest, though, so he grimly acknowledged that his tears were for himself, for the betrayal he was going to commit freely and voluntarily._

_He wrapped his arms around Leoben’s waist and dropped his chin to Leoben’s shoulder. “You were right. I’ll help.”_

*****

An officer enters the room and speaks quietly to Adama. Fraser could listen, if he chose to, but he believes he has, at long last, finally developed the art of selective awareness. He will be told what he needs to know, when he needs to know it. To invite information before he needs it is pointless and, frankly, masochistic.

Adama looks up and says, “President Roslyn believes it is necessary for us to have a more formal discussion, Mr. Fraser. Until such time as that can be set up, you will be returned to the brig.”

Despite his resolution not to ask needless questions, Fraser finds himself asking, “Am I under arrest, sir?”

It’s clear that Adama didn’t expect the question.

*****

_Leoben was gentle — terrifyingly gentle. He held Fraser for an endless time, soothing him with quiet touches and calm reassurances. When Fraser’s tears slowed down at last, Leoben told him that one day, humanity would remember him as a hero and would honor him with a special place in history. The lie was too much, and rather than listen to another word, Fraser captured Leoben’s mouth in a hard kiss that was meant to punish Leoben as much as it was to silence him._

_It was the first time Fraser had kissed one of the Leobens — he didn’t count the times the Leobens had kissed him — and he was grateful, so very grateful, that it was nothing at all like kissing Ray. Leoben’s mouth was as tasteless and bland as distilled water, despite the fact that he ate the same food that Fraser did. Ray’s mouth, he remembered, had always been a kaleidoscope of tastes ranging from pemmican to coffee to the occasional cigarette he didn’t think Fraser knew about. The differences heartened him. He could do this; he could have congress with this monster with Ray’s face, and he could keep his memories of Ray intact and uncorrupted._

_Fraser clasped the back of Leoben’s head and angled it to the left; had he been kissing Ray, he would have angled the head to the right, and he reminded himself of that as his cock hardened. It didn’t care about the emotional nuances. It responded, because it had been without direct stimulation for far too long, and there was a warm, willing hand on it now. Fraser told himself that accepting this monster into his bed wasn’t a denial of what he felt for Ray. It was simply sealing a bargain in the only way Leoben and the other Cylons would accept._

*****

“Let’s just say that for the moment, you’re in protective custody,” Adama says.

Fraser is slipping into old habits and patterns and can’t stop himself from asking, “Do I have need of legal counsel?”

Adama loses what little warmth he had for Fraser and asks, “What do you think?”

He pauses for a moment, considering his words. “I think that unless there is a public record of my status on board Galactica, it would be all too easy to arrange for my disappearance.”

Angered, Adama clenches his jaw.

*****

_Leoben wrapped his other arm around Fraser and pulled him along for a few feet until they reached the raised pallet. For a moment, Fraser resisted being lowered to the mattress. Leoben felt like Ray, felt the way Ray did when he would do the same thing to get them into bed. He couldn’t continue, not like this, so he used a half-forgotten bit of training to shift his weight around so that Leoben was the one who was lowered, not Fraser._

_Breaking free of the kiss, Leoben said, “Benton —”_

_He wouldn’t listen to him, so Fraser kissed Leoben again, hard enough to draw blood. Fraser started to apologize, but he stopped himself. He had nothing to be sorry about, because if the Cylon was injured during this transaction, it was only just and proper. Once Leoben’s comfort was safely dismissed, Fraser reached down and grasped Leoben’s cock. He stripped it efficiently and with an eye to speedy completion, steadfastly ignoring the fact that his hand knew the shape of Leoben’s flesh as well as it knew the shape of his own. Mere coincidence, he reminded himself, and it had nothing to do with Ray._

_Fraser’s hand moved faster and faster, and he muffled Leoben’s grunts and words as best he could. Even so, he still heard Leoben’s cry of pleasure and his moans of approval as Fraser gathered his ejaculate to use as lubricant._

*****

“Have the Cylons brainwashed you so completely that you could believe that of us?” he asks Fraser.

It’s a hard question, and Fraser wants to deny the unspoken accusation, but he can’t. The Cylons, after all, taught him their version of the Colonies’ history, and no matter how much he works at remaining nonjudgmental, there is still no denying his horror at some of what he learned.

“No, sir,” he says after considering his response. “My experience with human nature in general allows me to believe that of any governing body, not just the Colonies’.”

*****

_By the time Fraser pushed into Leoben, he was crying again. He only knew this only because Leoben captured his face to lick away the tears._

_“This isn’t real. You don’t care. Don’t pretend you do,” he said._

_“It’s real,” Leoben whispered as he tilted his hips to meet Fraser’s thrusts. “It’s real, and I care.”_

_“No!” He pushed harder and faster, caring only to find his release as quickly as possible to end this union._

_“I love you, Benton.” Leoben moved just so, and Fraser came with no sense of relief. “I wish I could keep you here with me.”_

_“Don’t. Don’t speak.”_

_“Our separation will be hard,” he said, ignoring Fraser yet again. “But it’s necessary to save Earth. To save Ray.”_

_Fraser pushed himself away. “Damn you to hell.”_

*****

A flicker of — guilt? — crosses Adama’s features. “Very well, Mr. Fraser. I will arrange for you to meet with legal counsel.”

A victory, of sorts, though it brings Fraser no joy.

### Healer

“You first went to Chicago on the trail of your father’s killers.” Fraser stopped in the corridor and looked for the woman who’d spoken. From behind and to the left, he heard, “But you found so much more than simple filial duty, didn’t you?”

The frowzy woman leaned in a doorway, and Fraser wanted more than anything to ignore her. However, her face held the same slack exhaustion his own had after a vision, and he found himself asking, “You’re an oracle, aren’t you?”

Without replying, she turned and went back into her office? Quarters? Fraser followed her against his better judgment.

She sat down at a table as he walked in and gestured at the chair opposite her. When he sat, she took his face into her hands, and he —

_— was in the ice fields southwest of Tuktoyaktuk near sunset. It could just as easily have been spring, but it was October, of that he was certain. He heard a familiar voice calling out orders to a dog team, and he turned quickly._

_“Ray!”_

_Neither Ray nor the team slowed down, and Ben watched with bitter disappointment as they sped past him. No matter. If this was a dream, then he could keep up easily enough, so he ran after them, thinking he could get home in time for —_

“Tea?”

Fraser blinked. He was back on board the Achilles, sitting in an oracle’s home. “What did you do?”

“Tea?” She held up a small iron kettle, and Fraser nodded his acceptance. Once the tea was poured, she said, “The wheel turns, Ben. Leoben speaks the truth when he says you have your own role to play. Drink up. It will help you.”

He held himself still as he resisted the urge to slam her against a wall and demand answers. This rage was becoming all too comforting lately, and he constantly struggled against the luxury of giving into it. A whisper from the darkest part of his mind spoke of how satisfying it would be to smash the woman’s skull against a bulkhead and feel the bone crack and splinter, watch as the blood oozed out and stained her white hair red.

The imagery was horrifying enough to bring him back from the ecstasy of contemplation, but not enough to calm him completely. He breathed deeply a few times, and when he regained sufficient control over his voice, he asked, “Help me in what way?”

She gestured to his cup, and after he took a sip, she said, “Doctors think they know everything there is to know about chamalla and how it opens the mind. They don’t understand that it opens the soul as well. Drink, Ben. It won’t make you whole again, but it will slow down the bleeding.”

Despite himself, Fraser took a second sip and then a third, relaxing as his anger and despair dissolved. He finished the tea in a few minutes and asked, “What happened earlier?”

“You found your soul in Chicago,” she said, pronouncing the name with an odd inflection.

“That’s one way to look at it,” he said, irritated by the melodramatic phrasing.

She clutched his face again, and he —

_— was helpless in the face of his fury when he saw Ray pale and bleeding on the ground, Leoben standing over him as the dogs barked in terror and aggression._

_“What have you **done**?” Ben stumbled over to Ray._

_Leoben frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, Benton. This isn’t for you to —_

— see, now?” she asked as she withdrew her hands.

“No. I don’t. I need to go back there.” He snatched at her hands, but she moved them too quickly for him to capture.

“The wheel turns, Ben. Just as you have your role, so does Ray.”

Bitterness welled up. “What role is that? An abandoned lover? A man dead on the tundra?”

“Leoben believes that he’s the one to fill the spaces of your shredded soul,” she said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

In response, she clasped his face gently, crooning as he —

_— knelt next to Ray and glared at Leoben._

“You promised no harm would come to him.”

_Leoben sighed and squatted down, reaching for Ben’s hand but stopping shy of touching him. “Of all the things I’ve done, injuring you is what I regret most.”_

_“Why are you here?”_

_“I thought to take Ray’s place,” he said softly._

_“You were going to trick me?” Ben didn’t know why he was surprised._

_“No. I was going to trick your friends.” Truman, hackles raised, bared his teeth and growled at Leoben. “It won’t work, though. Your dogs won’t allow it.”_

_A soft moan pulled Ben’s attention away from Leoben. “Ray? Are you all right?”_

_Ray opened his eyes. “Ben? You’re dead.” He glanced at Leoben. “How come I’m standing there when I’m on the ground here?”_

_“I’m not —_

— dead!” Fraser blinked as he came back to the Achilles. “Send me back. Let me speak to him!”

“The wheel turns, Ben,” she said as she stood up. “You have a role to play, and you can’t if your soul is in two places.”

“Double talk,” he bit out.

“Ray is alive. Leoben will see to it the promise is kept.” She moved to a curtained doorway and paused. “You can’t go back there. Not again.”

“Why not?”

“Your life is here, now.”

“Then why let me go there at all?”

She turned and gave him a sad smile. “How do you feel?”

Fraser was about to brush off the question when he realized that he felt —”Better.”

“There’s your answer.”

She moved behind the curtain, and Fraser sat down abruptly, tears falling for the first time since he and Leoben sealed their bargain.

### Requital

It was dark when he woke up the first time.

There might have been a time before then when his eyes opened up, but he figured it was probably one of those whatsits — a waking dream — because how else could he explain seeing Ben and himself staring down at him? He couldn’t, so even though it had been light out that other time, he didn’t count it as actually waking up.

On the other hand, waking up now wasn’t much of a picnic either, because it was dark and he couldn’t hear the dogs. If nothing else, Truman should be whining and pawing at him, but he wasn’t, and that was a pretty strong clue that the team was dead or dying. No way would they leave him if he was still breathing, so maybe seeing Ben was a hint of things to come.

Ray let that thought roll around in his head for a while and eventually decided this was probably a good thing after all. He’d tried — God and most of Tuk knew he’d tried — but he just couldn’t get the hang of life after Ben died. It hurt so much some days, he couldn’t even haul his ass out of bed, and it wasn’t like there was any kind of medicine for that, no matter what Doc McManus tried to tell him.

He was drifting away again, willing the night to take him, when he heard, “You have to wake up.”

Ray didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Fuck off.”

The jerk shook his shoulder and said, “You’re awake now, Ray, and you have a decision to make.”

“Death,” he said, trying to shake the guy off. “I choose death. Now leave me alone.”

There was a long pause. “Why death?”

Ray opened his eyes and ended up glaring at — himself. Didn’t it just figure? All the people in the world an angel of death could choose to look like, and it chose to look like Ray. It confirmed a long-held suspicion that angels were, in fact, the supreme assholes of the universe.

“Ben’s dead,” he answered, speaking as slowly as he would to a dimwit. “I want to be with Ben, so I choose death. Now fuck off.”

“Benton isn’t dead.”

No fucking way was he an angel. Ray didn’t know who it was or why he looked like him, and he didn’t care, because he’d gone from drifting toward death to spitting fury in nothing flat and pinned the dickwad flat on his back less than five seconds later. He would have been faster, but he had to fight his way out of his sleeping bag first, and besides which, he was pushing fifty these days, which meant he was slower all the way around. Still, slow didn’t mean he couldn’t kick a head or two when he had to.

“I found him, you asshole! Found him and brought him home to bury. So don’t you dare try to fuck with me and tell me he’s alive, because I know he isn’t,” Ray ground out. He pounded the guy’s head into the tundra a couple of times before shoving himself away and standing. A quick look around confirmed the dogs and sled were gone, and if he hadn’t decided to die already, he might have been upset about that.

“You found a body that was built to look like Benton,” he answered calmly. “It was a necessary deception —”

Ray turned quickly and kicked the guy in the head. “Shut up!”

Turned out he might as well have kicked a rock, for all the good it did. The guy ignored the blood coming out of his mouth and stood up slowly. “Benton is alive.”

“If he was alive, he’d be here.”

“He can’t come back.” Christ, he sounded so calm and reasonable. Sounded like that prick of a shrink who’d tried to tell Ray a couple of years ago that maybe he should think about checking himself into the funny farm for a while.

“Yeah, right,” Ray said on a bitter laugh. “And you know this because?”

There was a long pause before he said, “I’m the one who took Benton away.”

*****

The sky was either lightening or going dark the next time Ray woke up, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was hogtied on the ground, though apparently, his evil twin wasn’t quite ready to kill Ray yet, because he was on some kind of thermal blanket with another one covering him. If he could ever get around to dying, it wouldn’t be of exposure, which was kind of irritating.

Ray nudged the blanket down far enough so he could look around, and yep. There he was, sitting next to a fire. Bastard probably stole the wood from Ray’s sled, which made perfect sense, considering he’d stolen Ben.

His back seized up suddenly, and he tried to ride out the pain, but nothing doing.

“Oh fuck!”

“Good morning, Ray.” He stood and walked over to Ray, staring down at him. “You really should have stopped fighting as soon as you realized how much stronger I am.”

“Fuck you.” Another spasm started before the first one ended, and Ray twisted around, trying to find relief from the pain.

“I can help you.”

“Like you helped yourself to Ben?” The words came out in breathless spurts between the jagged waves of agony. With any luck, he’d have a heart attack soon, and —

As suddenly as it started, the pain was gone. The spasms, too. Ray twisted his head around to look up. “What did you do?”

“Muscle relaxant,” he said, hold up a syringe. “Are you ready to talk now?”

No, he wasn’t, but now that his back had calmed down, Ray was getting reports from the rest of his body, and they weren’t good. His right hand felt like it might broken, which served him right, because he knew better than to use his fist in a bare-hands brawl. His left eye was mostly swollen shut, and there was a good chance his nose was broken. Unless the guy was planning to kill him soon, Ray was going to have to get to a doctor, and as far as he could tell, his evil twin was the only one who could help him.

God, he hated it when he had to play nice.

“Who are you?” he said finally.

“My name is Leoben Conoy.”

Either Conoy was stupid enough to tell Ray his name or it didn’t really matter that Ray knew. All things considered, Ray figured it didn’t matter that he knew, so death was probably back on the agenda after all.

“Where you from?”

“My answer won’t mean anything to you.” Conoy stood up. “Would you like something to eat? Breakfast is ready.”

“I, uh —” Ray wiggled a little. “I can’t exactly help myself here.”

Conoy reached down and hauled Ray to his knees, which wasn’t the most comfortable position. In fact, it sucked, having his back arched like that. “I’ll release you if you promise not to attack me again.”

It was easier to make that promise than Ray liked. Conoy had really cleaned his clock the night before, and he’d gotten the impression that Conoy could have done a lot worse to him.

“Thanks,” Ray said, after the traces were removed and handed to him. They were Bridget’s — he recognized the repair work he’d done a month earlier — and Ray had to bite back his anger one more time before he asking, “What happened to my dogs?”

“I released them and chased them toward town,” Conoy said. “If they headed home, they should be fine.”

“My sled?”

“Pushed down a crevasse.” Conoy held out a cup of steaming something. “Here. You need this.”

Ray took a sniff — hot chocolate — and drank it down as his rage stirred itself. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you make it look like I’m dead?” He was tempted to ask why the guy acted like Ben was alive, but it was clear that Conoy was just playing with him before killing him. Maybe if Ray played along, he’d be able to get the drop on the guy and find his way home again.

Or not. But if not, at least he’d be dead on his own terms and not someone else’s.

“It’s best if your friends and family think you’re dead,” Conoy said softly. “That way, they can mourn and get on with their life.”

“Hah! Like the way I did, right?” It really was funny, Ray thought, as he gasped for breath, and damn, how long had it been since he’d laughed so hard?

“Benton told me you would feel his absence keenly.” Ray’s laughter shut off just like that as Conoy continued speaking. “During those first few months, he begged to be brought back home.”

“What did you do to him?” Ray only just managed to keep himself still, though he made no guarantees about the next minute.

“I took him back to the base ship.” Conoy reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun — Ray’s, of course — and said, “You’re not going to like the story I’m about to tell you, but you need to hear it. I can either tie you up again or shoot you if you try to attack. It’s your choice, Ray.”

He tightened his jaw a couple of times before saying, “I’ll sit still. Talk.”

*****

The sun was starting to go down by the time Ray said, “You made him choose how many people will die?”

God, he wanted to kill Conoy. Wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat and strangle him for what he and those other Cyclos had done to Ben, but every time he twitched a little in that direction, Conoy held the gun up in warning. Ray wasn’t sure he believed much of the man’s story, mostly because he hadn’t shown Ray his spaceship yet, but he was starting to believe that Ben might just be alive after all.

“Can you think of anyone you would trust more to make that decision for your planet?”

“No one should have to make that kind of choice. Don’t you get it?” Ray stood up abruptly, ignoring the release of the safety as he stomped away from Conoy. Whether the Cyclones could kill everyone on Earth or not was beside the point; the point was they’d somehow convinced Ben they could, and then they fucked him over with that story. “What the hell kind of monster are you?”

Conoy ignored that question and asked, “Do you want to see Benton again?”

Ray stood stock-still then turned around. “Of course I do.” He also wanted to pound Conoy’s face into the ice, but that fantasy would have to wait.

“Though I can take you to him, it will be a difficult journey.”

“Why?”

“I’m acting against the will of the others in making this offer, so you won’t receive medical treatment until we locate the Colonial ships.” Conoy tilted his head slightly. “Are you claustrophobic at all?”

“If you take me to Ben, I’ll deal.”

### Fidelity

When he sees him, Fraser’s immediate response is rage, and he gives vent to it. Halfway to the bed, others grab him and slow him down, but he’s waited too long, and he won’t be denied the chance to kill at least one of the Leobens. Adama shouts orders, and still more men and women run to stop him.

The noise and chaos are overwhelming at first, and then, for a moment, silence descends abruptly, allowing a single voice to be heard.

“Geez, Ben. I don’t think I’ve seen you this pissed off since Lurk McGurk peed on your Stetson.”

*****

_When Conoy stopped talking on the radio, he told Ray, “They distrust me.”_

_“Gee, I wonder if has anything to do with — tell me again how many you guys killed?” Ray squirmed a little, despite knowing comfort was a lost cause. Had been ever since he’d agreed to go along with the guy three or four months earlier. At least they wouldn’t be making any more of them FTL jumps, for which Ray was grateful. He hated puking his guts up all the time._

_“Nonetheless, they’re allowing us to come aboard Galactica.” Conoy added, “It may be a bit tense.”_

*****

“What?” Ray — and it can only be Ray — sounds horribly weak and looks worse. “You think I’d let a little thing like a gazillion miles keep us apart?”

“You’re supposed to be home.” They’ve released him, so Fraser steps forward, hesitant.

“Like that was gonna happen once I knew you were alive.” Ray starts coughing, and it’s a dreadful sound. Fraser goes to Ray’s bed and sits, touches Ray’s face.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Ben says.

“Too late.”

*****

_Conoy warned him. “They’ll have guns trained on us from the moment we exit the ship.”_

_“That’s nothing new,” Ray said. “Just be happy to stretch my legs for a while.”_

_“Keep your hands in the air at all times,” he continued. “It will take a while for me to convince them you’re human, but they’ll certainly separate us long before that happens.”_

_“Great.”_

_“It would have been better if you could have learned more of their language.”_

_Ray shrugged. “They’ll shove me where they want me to go. You ready to do this?”_

_Conoy nodded then opened the hatch._

*****

“Caught some bug. No biggie.”

Ray is about to say more, but Ben touches his lips to silence him as he looks for Doctor Cottle. “What’s wrong with him?”

Cottle glances at Adama before saying, “Sagittan flu. He came down with it a couple of weeks after they got here.”

“A couple of — how long has he been aboard Galactica?” His anger is rising again, but it’s a clean and righteous anger. It isn’t the corrupt rage he’s experienced all too often lately.

*****

_Ray didn’t mind the guns, and he didn’t mind the suspicious looks, either. Hell, he was even okay with the way they sometimes tripped him when he was walking from his cell to interrogation. No, what pissed him off were the interrogations themselves._

_There was this one blonde chick who was way too happy shoving his face into a bucket of water and holding him down till he choked._

When he started hacking up a lung, he blamed the near drownings; it never once occurred to him to blame the night guard who’d begun sneezing a couple of days earlier.

*****

“You should have told me.”

Adama asks, “And if he’d died?” Ben glares at him as he continues speaking. “Wouldn’t it have been better to believe he was still alive?”

“Of course not!”

Ray tugs on Ben’s arm. “What’s got you so riled up?”

“They should have told me you were here when you arrived,” Ben says.

“I was pretty sick for a while there.” The implication is clear, and Ben shakes his head.

“They should have told me. It would have been worth it.”

*****

_By the time Ray came around again, he was weak enough that a day old puppy could have taken him on and won. For the first couple of days, the nurses tried to talk to him, though God knew why. It wasn’t like he’d magically learned the language while he was out._

_Eventually, they caught a clue and brought Conoy around._

_“You look like shit,” Ray said._

_“I’m fine. They need to know more about you.”_

_Ray thought about it for a moment. “Is Ben here?”_

_“He’s with the fleet.”_

_Taking that as a yes, Ray said, “Ben can translate.”_

*****

“I know.”

Startled, Ben says, “I beg your pardon?”

“Conoy gave me the basics back —” He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Back on Earth. He filled in the rest on the trip out here.”

“Then you know I’m a —”

“Guy who got the shit end of the stick. Yeah. I know.”

“Ray, you have no idea!” Ben stands then sits again, unable to determine if he should be at attention or get close enough for Ray to hit, should he find it necessary. “I had — relations — with Leoben.”

“So? Two weeks after I buried you, I blew Vecchio.”

Lost in misery, it’s a moment before Ben processes what Ray just said. “You _what_?”

Ray cackles. “Gotcha.”

“Ray!”

He grabs Ben’s hand and kisses his fingers. “Did you think you’d ever see me again?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then it don’t matter.”

“Ray —”

“You’re here. I’m here. It’s good.”

Ben stares at him for a long time before leaning down to find home again in Ray’s kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I really should have added this a while ago, but sometimes I fail at things, and this is one of those times. Soul Surrender was remixed by Cesario in 2008 as part of Remix Redux. [Surrender (the end that crowns the pain Remix)](http://remixredux08.livejournal.com/51972.html) gives us Ray's backstory, and just like Ray himself, the story is bright and painful and beautiful.


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